"Yes, dear," said Mrs. Flint; "he has a high fever, and I fear will be very ill." After his mother had gone Willie put on his hat and slipped out the front door. "I want to do something to help my good, kind papa, who is sick," he said to himself. He wandered up to Main Street and stood looking at the tall buildings that his poor father owned. Passersby smiled when they saw the little flaxen-haired boy, and many a rough face softened at the sight of his innocent blue eyes. Poor little Willie. What could he do in the great, busy city to help his sick father? "I know what I will do," he said to himself presently. "I will go up and raise the rent of several offices and that will make my papa feel better." Willie toiled up three flights of stairs of one of his father's largest buildings. He had to sit down quite often and rest, for he was short on wind. Away up to the third story was an office rented by two young men who had just begun to practice law. They had their sign out, and had given their note to Mr. Flint for the first month's rent. As Willie climbed the stairs the young lawyers were eating some cheese and crackers, with their feet on their desks, and six empty quart beer bottles stood upon a table. They were breathing hard, and one of them, who had a magnolia in his buttonhole, was telling a funny story about a girl. Presently one of them took his feet off his desk, opened his eyes and said: "Jeeminy! Bob, get onto his Fauntleroyets." The gentleman addressed as Bob also took his feet down, wiped his knife, with which he had been slicing cheese, on his hair, and looked around. A little blue-eyed boy with long golden curls stood in the doorway. "Come in, sissy," said one of the young men. Willie walked boldly into the room. "I'm not a girl," he said. "My name is Willie Flint, and I've come to raise the rent." "Now, that's kind of you, Willie," said the young man called Bob, "to come and do that, for we couldn't do it if we were to be electrocuted. Is that your own hair, Willie, or do you ride a bicycle?" "Don't worry the little boy," said the other young gentleman, whom Bob addressed as Sam. "I'm sure that this is a nice little boy. I say, Willie, did you ever hear a gumdrop?" "Don't tease him," said Bob severely. "He reminds me of someone--excuse my tears--those curls, those bloomers. Say, Willie, speak quick, my child--two hundred and ten years ago, were you standing--" "Oh, let him alone," said Sam, frowning at the other young gentleman. "Willie, as a personal favor, would you mind weeping a while on the floor? I am overcome by ennui, and would be moved to joy." "My papa is very ill," said Willie, bravely forcing back his tears, "and something must be done for him. Please, kind gentleman, let me raise the rent of this office so I can go back and tell him and make him better." "It's old Flint's kid," said Bob. "Don't he make your face wide? Say, Willie, how much do you want to raise the rent?"